There's Something About Terry
by squibbles
Summary: UP: Chapter 5: What Valentine?: All of a sudden, she leaned forward, closing the short distance between them, and planted her lips squarely on Terry’s. Please RR!
1. Meet Terry

**Hi folks, squibbles here. :)**

For a while I've been toying with the idea of writing about a non-mainstream HP student. I enjoy the process of developing character traits, and since not much is said about Terry Boot, I decided he'd be a prime person to choose. For those of you that don't recall this name, Terry is mentioned in the first book during the sorting ceremony. (McGonagall calls _"Boot, Terry!" _and the sorting hat places him in Ravenclaw.)

I also plan on bringing in Mandy Brocklehurst, another Ravenclaw mentioned during the sorting ceremony, and alternating third person POV between her and Terry.

So, that's that. Here's the first chapter of There's Something About Terry by squibbles! Enjoy!

* * *

There's something about Terry Boot. 

On first glance, he really does seem like the typical Ravenclaw.

He gets caught up in heated discussions over steak-and-kidney pie with his fellow housemates. His homework comes before his Quidditch. His days are planned. He memorizes his schedule within ten minutes of receiving his timetable. He is reserved, but opinionated when he has to be.

A regular bookworm. A sharp intellect, with a sarcastic wit to match.

Typical. At _first_ glance. But there are little things that inevitably lead to that _second_ glance.

He clucks his tongue when he's thinking. One of his eyes is the color of bitter chocolate, the other of milk chocolate. Snowflakes stay intact in his curly hair longer than they keep shape anywhere else. He has reading glasses, but keeps them perched on his forehead when absorbed in a book. He wears a purple wristband at all times. Muggle Greek mythology fascinates him. He sleeps with a nightlight on.

All it takes is that second glance to see these quirks and become intrigued.

There is indeed something different about Terry Boot. But it's the kind of different that his peers take interest in, boys and girls alike. When he speaks, the people around him listen. An eloquent conversationalist, he can change opinions through reason.

Terry is popular. More often than not, he prefers to be alone by the lake with a good book. Yet he has a flock to turn to if he ever needs advice (although his friends usually end up coming to him). His band of mates are always up for a candid debate on the school's grading policy or just hanging out in their common room. Terry is modest and respected, but at the same time, always up for a bit of fun. Not the type of young man one soon forgets.

He stands out, but not in the ways other students do. He's not a hilarious prankster or particularly handsome. He never survived a strike of _Avada Kedavra_. He has accomplished no feats worthy of history books.

But there's _something_ about Terry.

* * *

"You sound a little cocky, Captain Corner." 

Terry Boot mock-saluted his best mate.

"_I'd _call it confident. Seriously, the Quidditch Cup is _ours_ this year. I mean, we've got the cleverest tactics," Michael boasted.

"Gryffindor's won it since, like, before the Triwizard tournament," Lisa Turpin noted.

The three seventh year Ravenclaws were strolling through the busy hallway to their NEWT level Transfiguration class. Michael and Lisa strode on either side of Terry.

"Look, that's not much of streak," Micheal insisted. "Besides, I've got Potter figured out. All his fake dives don't fool _me_."

Terry laughed.

"Yeah, Potter never fools you. Except for, you know, every time we play Gryffindor."

"Shut up, Terry!" Michael exclaimed, flinging an arm out to his side in frustration, sending a scrawny brunette who was walking the opposite direction clear to the floor.

Terry slipped out from between his two friends and knelt to pick up the girl's scattered books. He glanced over his shoulder to see that Michael had hardly missed a beat and was still talking animatedly and walking with Lisa.

_A real gentlemen, he is, _Terry thought, scowling.

He rose to his feet, holding the girl's books.

"Thanks."

She smiled appreciatively, her cheeks flushed a rosy hue. As she dusted off the front of her robes, Terry noticed the Ravenclaw emblem on the breast pocket. He recognized her, but couldn't put a name to her face.

"My pleasure," he replied, placing the pile of textbooks in her outstretched arms.

With a final coy smile, Terry turned and paced quickly down the hall, though his friends were already out of sight. The crowd of students was thinning, and the last thing Terry needed was to be late to class.

Terry took his usual seat next to Michael just as McGonagall started the lesson.

"We have done much study on partial human Transfiguration," the professor began in her sharp, carrying voice. "The wings of an eagle, the limbs of a lion, and so on. However, full human Transfiguration takes precise concentration and numerous hours of practice."

Terry poked Michael in the arm.

"She was a Ravenclaw, you know," he whispered, trying not to move his lips.

"Who?" asked Michael, appearing completely miffed.

"That girl you clocked with your spastic arms in the hallway!" Terry reminded him, exasperated.

Michael blinked.

"What girl?"

Terry rolled his eyes and pulled a quill and a roll of parchment from his backpack.

"Forget it."

Michael shrugged and leaned back in his chair, interlocking his fingers behind his head. Terry converted his attention to McGonagall and commenced his feverish note-taking. Within ten minutes, a foot of parchment was covered with his half-printed, half-cursive scrawl. He re-read what he'd written, his eyes flicking hurriedly across the messy lines.

"Quit making that clucky sound with your tongue."

Terry pried his gaze from the notes and peered at Michael, who was looking very bored indeed.

"Sorry, I was just thinking."

Michael's eyes bugged out as they dropped to Terry's parchment.

"Merlin! You are _so_ anal with your bloody note-taking!"

"And you are _so _the opposite," Terry snapped. "Do you even have parchment? Honestly, how can you call yourself a Ravenclaw?"

"It's all up here, mate," Michael stated as he tapped his hairline with a finger. "I absorb knowledge like a sponge."

"Well, you better start paying _real_ attention. I'm not letting you copy my notes again."

"All right, all right. Typical Terry, always making me work like a dog. Where would I be without you?"

"First year," answered Terry, grinning.

"Sod off," Michael muttered with fake grouchiness.

"Make me, Spongebrain."

The boys shook with stifled laughter until McGonagall told them to calm themselves and take notes. They remained silent for several minutes; the professor's voice and the scratching of quills were the only noises heard. Terry, who was concentrating on the lecture, jumped at the sound of Michael's voice.

"Terry."

"What?"

"The clucking, mate. Knock it off."

"Sorry."

* * *

I realize nothing too important happens, but this chapter, entitled "Meet Terry", was written for a self-explanatory purpose. 

Well, you've read it. What are you waiting for? **REVIEW!**


	2. Meet Mandy

Hey all, squibbles here. Sorry I haven't been able to write lately, I've been so busy. But never fear - I haven't been wiped off the face of the planet. I would never abandon my fanfics (or my fans). I'm currently working on the next chapter of Going On Seventeen, but for now, here's chapter two of There's Something About Terry.

Enjoy!

* * *

If you're not a close mate of Mandy Broklehurst's, you would probably never be able to pick her out a crowd. She is the type of person who blends into the background and has no desire to be the center of attention. She is not a follower, but certainly not a leader.

Mandy's straight, brown hair falls to the middle of her back, and is usually woven into neat plaits. Her eyes, the color of the ocean, are perpetually glued to the floor in front of her when she walks. Or, flying across the pages of a book. When she moves about the hallways, she clutches her schoolbooks across her very flat chest, her shoulders slouched due to her tendency of staying low and out of the spotlight.

An introvert, Mandy is soft-spoken and generally keeps to herself. She voices her values and reveals her secrets only to her closest friends, and even they don't know everything. She is a bright girl, but her shyness prevents many people from discovering her personality.

Mandy has a unique appreciation for nature. Returning to Hogwarts after the summer holiday is a true joy for her, as she adores strolling around the grounds in September, when the leaves are just beginning to turn spectacular shades of orange and red. Mandy, who lives in the heart of London, is one of few students at Hogwarts who is truly thankful for the natural beauty that surrounds the school.

Like all people, Mandy has bad habits. Biting her nails, for example, which began during her History of Magic OWL exam at the end of fifth year.

But for the past six years, she's had the ongoing habit of scoping out Terry Boot, whenever possible.

Since the Sorting Ceremony of her first year at Hogwarts, she has been smitten with him. _Infatuated. _

Yet, despite the fact that they were sorted into the same House, Mandy has spoken to Terry only a few times. Her bashful temperament has always kept her from striking up a decent conversation

And why would a popular boy like Terry ever approach her?

* * *

Mandy Brocklehurst flopped down on her bed, wearing a blissful smile.

"He picked up my books today."

Padma Patil, who was styling her hair into defined ringlets with her wand, rolled her eyes toward Mandy.

"You are _obsessed._"

Mandy rolled onto her stomach and giggled senselessly into her comforter.

"See? You don't deny it," Padma stated.

Feeling hyperactive, Mandy changed positions again, this time on her side with her arm propping up her head. Padma had turned back to the mirror and was applying some slimy-looking white product to her curly head of black hair. Mandy chose not to respond to her roommate's taunt. Her grin only widened as she replayed the moment she and Terry had locked eyes as he had handed over her books. It may have only been a split-second, but just thinking about it made Mandy's heartbeat quicken.

Padma had finished with her hair and was sitting on Mandy's bed.

"Mandy," she began, sounding a bit overly understanding. "Let me talk to him. I can get you guys a date together, honestly."

"For the millionth time, _no!_" declared Mandy as she collapsed onto her back.

"Why? What have you got to lose?"

"Padma, he has no idea who I am. If you told him I wanted a date with him, he'd think I was some... some freaky obsessed stalker."

"So... you _do_ want a date with him?"

Mandy let out a frustrated groan.

"All right, all right," agreed Padma. "But, listen. I'm actually meeting him and some other mates in the courtyard in like, five minutes. We're just hanging out, _really _casual, you know? Why don't you come with me?"

Sighing, Mandy pulled herself to a sitting position and tucked her legs under her. She poked at the mattress, considering. She _did _want to go. She wanted to be around Terry. But Padma's group of friends were all so... _popular. _Michael Corner, Lisa Turpin, Terry (of course), and several others; Mandy doubted that any of them even knew she was a Ravenclaw. Even Padma was just an acquaintance. She was the sole connection to Terry which, essentially, was the only reason Mandy confided in her. Otherwise, Padma stuck with her (many) mates, and Mandy stuck with her (very few) mates.

Padma was standing, pulling on a pair of pink gloves. She picked a matching scarf off the ground and tied it around her neck.

"So what's it gonna be?" she questioned, hands on her hips.

Mandy shook her head slowly, staring down at her bitten fingernails.

"Don't think so, Padma. I've a lot of homework, and—"

"_Rowena_ _Ravenclaw, _Mandy! It's Friday!"

Mandy peered up at Padma just in time to see her roll her heavily made-up eyes. Mandy shrugged as she gazed longingly at her roommate's flawless complexion.

"I understand that you're studious and everything, I mean, who in this House isn't? But _really_. You'll have ample time to do your work tomorrow and Sunday," Padma reasoned.

Chewing on a thumbnail, Mandy shrugged again.

"Next time, Padma."

"If you say so. Just come on out if you change your mind," Padma called over her shoulder as she skittered out the door.

Mandy laid down once more, breathing deeply for several moments. She thought of Terry in the courtyard, horsing around with Michael Corner, telling jokes to the group, being flirted with by the girls. Letting her eyelids fall, Mandy pictured herself beside him, laughing with him, staring into his fascinating eyes—

The high-pitched giggling of what sounded like a band of first-year girls whipped through Mandy's fantasy. She listened as they crashed-and-banged down the dormitory stairs, all of them talking a mile a minute, but none of them, it seemed, really hearing each other.

As their voices faded, Mandy rocked onto her side. She glanced at the clock; it was 3:30. It would be another hour before her best friend, Samantha Fawcett, would be out of her Charms Club meeting.

More boisterous laughter came from the common room.

_Everyone's having fun but me, _Mandy thought, a listless sigh escaping her lips. She pulled the elastics from her hair and ran her fingers through the plaits, causing them to instantly unweave.

Closing her eyes, Mandy relaxed against her mattress. She resumed her fantasy which, for some reason, always ended with she and Terry soaking wet, kissing while waist-deep in the lake.

* * *

Well, that's that. Please R/R! And thank you to those who reviewed the last chapter.


	3. A Herbology Catastrophe

Ahoy hoy, everybody! Friday night, I had nowhere to be, soI sat down at the computer and wrote... and wroteandwroteandwrote. It was awesome. And then, today (Saturday), I did a lot of editing. And... le chapitre trois of There's Something About Terry was born!

Crazy amounts of love to all reviewers: Desiree K Troy, Laney-Wood, strawberry-heavens and FUSSY! You guys are wonderful.

And here we go.

* * *

**Chapter Three: A Herbology Catastrophe**

It was a cold Wednesday morning. Snowflakes drifted lazily from the grey sky, though there were too few of them to accumulate anywhere. Except, perhaps, in Terry's hair.

He bustled across the stretch of lawn to Herbology, Padma and Michael on his either side. Padma and himself had been sensible and were dressed in scarves and sweaters, whereas Michael preferred to "be manly and tackle the elements". With defiance he had sauntered from the castle wearing nothing but his uniform slacks and a tee-shirt, but within seconds could not hush his chattering teeth.

"Mate, it's January. Stop kidding yourself," Terry advised, smirking.

"N-n-never!" declared Michael as he charged forward, his arms stuffed inside his shirt. Terry laughed and sprinted after his friend (he was cold too, after all) with Padma nipping at his heels. Breathless, the three entered the Greenhouse One.

The frigid air combined with the breath of thirty students fogged the glass walls, making it impossible to see in or out. It wasn't much warmer inside, either; many students chose to remain bundled in their layers. Terry and Padma continued to tease Michael, who _had _no layers to begin with, but insisted on maintaining his masculinity.

Professor Sprout waddled from the far end of the greenhouse, speaking as she made her way to the front. Terry observed Draco Malfoy do a crude impression of the professor when she passed him: his arms stoutly on his hips, his cheeks puffed out, shifting from one foot to the other in a half-squat. He and his fellow Slytherins snickered in their distinctive, condescending manner. Rolling his eyes, Terry glanced toProfessor Sprout. She hadn't noticed.

"Mooncalf dung," she was instructing, "is a powerful fertilizer. When used sparingly, certain plants benefit greatly from its properties by growing up healthy, strong, and happy."

Terry grinned. He loved Herbology partly for the way Professor Sprout referred to plants as if they were children that needed to be nurtured and loved (and maybe fertilized with mooncalf dung) in order to become "grown-ups".

"_However,_" she continued with one stubby, cautioning finger raised. "Mooncalf dung can be dangerous if it is not handled carefully. For example: this particular greenhouse houses _belladonna,_ for the purposes of potion-making." With the same finger, Professor Sprout pointed to a gnarly-looking plant along the wall behind the line of Slytherins.

"_Belladonna _is severely reactive to mooncalf dung. If more than a pinch of the fertilizer is applied to its base, it grows rapidly before one's eyes. So rapidly, in fact, it could fill this greenhouse in a matter of minutes."

Meeting eyes with his professor, Terry nodded receptively. She offered a chubby-cheeked smile in return, then clapped her hands together.

"That being said! Grab a partner and one of these potted _dittanies _on the center table, here. The _dittany_ is not quite so reactive, hence we will be using it to study the affects of the mooncalf dung... which is stored on the supply shelves in the back. Mr. Boot, Miss Brocklehurst, please go retrieve four pots of it. Hurry, now, we must get started."

Obediently, Terry weaved through his fellow Ravenclaws, who chatted and searched for partners while pulling on their handling gloves. Their voices softened to a muffled murmur as Terry let the glass door to the supply area fall closed behind him. The noise rose again as the door was pushed open.

Terry turned. It was the same skinny girl with the long plaits that Michael had shoved down in the hallway a week earlier. Her cheeks flushed pink as Terry greeted her with a smile. He swiveled back around and began searching for the mooncalf dung on the shelving labeled "_Fertilizer_" by a sign hanging from the ceiling by a rusty, vine-entangled chain.

Unfortunately, the pots themselves were not labeled. Terry poked at a lumpy, foul-smelling black mush contained in a square pot, his brow furrowed.

"Is this it?" he questioned of the girl, who now stood beside him.

"No," she replied, her nose crinkled. "Mooncalf dung is silvery."

Terry squinted at her, his expression both quizzical and impressed.

"I read ahead in the text," she explained with another blush.

"Ah."

Terry watched her for a moment, thinking of her last name.

_Brocklehurst, Brocklehurst. . ._

A light bulb illuminated inside his head.

"You're Mandy, right?" he wondered aloud, meeting the girl's eyes for a moment before she looked away.

"Erm, yeah. Mandy."

"Thought so. I'm Terry."

"I kn—I mean, yeah. Hello, Terry."

The two continued their search for the mooncalf dung, finally finding the silver fertilizer on the top shelf. One by one, Terry handed four pots down to Mandy. The pots were large; each could easily fit a Quaffle inside when empty. Though filled to the brim with dung, they were practically weightless.

Terry followed suit as Mandy hoisted two pots from where she'd placed them on the ground, cradling one in each arm. She pushed through the opposite door that they'd entered from and started down the dirt path behind the Slytherins, who were lined up along the center table. The Ravenclaws stood attentive on the other side. Walking in perfect stride with Mandy, Terry trailed her by two paces.

As they neared Malfoy and his mates, Terry noticed the Slytherin whisper to Theodore Nott, who let out a hoot of laughter.

The events of the seconds that ensued occurred in slow motion.

Malfoy jutted a foot in Mandy's walkway ever-so-discreetly. Terry saw, but it didn't register.

Disaster struck.

Mandy tripped. She gave a short, high pitched shriek as she tumbled unceremoniously to the dirt, flinging the pots of mooncalf dung.

Unable to halt his forward momentum, Terry bowled over, landing precisely atop Mandy. His own pots of dung flew from his arms, high, high into the air...

He rolled off Mandy, worried that he may have hurt her, yet his eyes followed the soaring mooncalf dung. Upon falling, he'd lost track of who had held which pots, but it ended up not mattering. Terry watched, sprawled helplessly on the ground, as the individual pots landed and shattered.

The first pot broke on the center table. The second narrowly missed Pansy Parkinson's feet. The third and fourth broke over the plants, the _belladonna,_ against the wall—

_Oh, shit._

The reaction was both incredible and horrifying. Laughter of the Slytherins morphed into screams and profanity as panicked students kicked and shoved their peers in order to make it out of the greenhouse alive.

The ordinarily quill-thin stems of the _belladonna_ thickened to the width of coffee cups. The stalks reached hungrily out, each growing a meter per second, gobbling up the available space. The plant's sharp-edged, brittle leaves and inch-long thorns clawed mercilessly at robes, arms, faces. Professor Sprout was shouting something, her words drowned in the commotion.

Terry groped along the ground, eventually finding Mandy's wrist. He yanked; she screamed. Stalks shot out above him, grazing his head. The plant multiplied, twisting and turning every which way, the sound of its growth resembling the ripping of fabric, the pulling-apart of Velcro. Terry's heart beat so furiously he was sure the thumping could be seen through his clothes. Sweat dripped into his eyes. He crawled sideways, guiding Mandy with him toward the exit. He could see outside through a tiny void in the _belladonna_...

The pair escaped. Terry threw himself from the greenhouse, landing face-down on the frosted grass. Mandy clambered out, thrashing to close the screen door with her feet, just as the glass wall cracked from its base to the roof. He watched her squirm ahead of him, gasping; her body fell limp as she began sobbing into her arms.

"Terry! Oh Terry, thank _Merlin!_"

Terry felt someone kneel beside him. It was a hysterical Padma, her face streaked with tears and mascara.

"You all right, mate?"

Terry rolled onto his back, groaning. Michael stood over him. The Ravenclaws, and even a few of the Slytherins, crowded around. Terry lost sight of Mandy. He lifted his body to a lounging position.

"Is Mandy okay?" he asked, trying to get a glimpse of her.

A few people mumbled, "Who?" but before anyone could answer Terry's question, Professor Sprout parted the mob of students and took hold of his arms. She hauled him roughly to his feet. Whimpering incoherent squeaks of rage, she grabbed Terry's ear and pulled him away from the crowd. He inhaled sharply through clenched teeth, making a hissing sound.

"Class dismissed! Go to Madam Pomfrey if you have to!" his professor bellowed.

Terry spotted Mandy as the crowd began to dissipate, though many students loitered, trying to remain within earshot. With her free hand, Professor Sprout grasped Mandy's forearm and heaved the girl to her feet. She yelped, then wiped her face with a sleeve.

"_Explain yourselves!_" sputtered Professor Sprout, her eyes expansive and whipping from side to side. "How could you be so completely careless!? Excellent students like yourselves! After all I warned you about the reactions of the _belladon—_"

Terry spoke up.

"Professor, it wasn't carelessness. Malfoy tripped Mand—"

"That's a lie!"

Terry snapped his head around at the icy, drawling voice. Malfoy stood a few meters away, sneering maliciously, blood dripping from a cut below his eye. The deep red looked creepy against his pale skin. Arms folded across his chest, he stepped closer.

"_You _tripped her from behind," professed Malfoy, pointing an accusing finger at Terry. "Don't try to lay it on someone else, Boot."

Terry's protests were buried beneath a deafening crash. The screen door of the greenhouse had burst off its hinges, allowing the _belladonna_ to explode out across the lawn. More screams rang out as people distanced themselves. Professor Sprout snatched her wand from inside her apron, aimed it at the plant and shouted an incantation.

The growth of the _belladonna_ slowed as it turned a sickly yellow. The leaves shriveled and crackled as if struggling. Professor Sprout directed her wand to the greenhouse wall.

"_Reparo._"

The crack sealed. Professor Sprout turned on her heel, looking miserable.

"_That, _students, was a modified Drought Charm. I didn't want to resort to using it. But now, the _belladonna_ is stripped of its water and cannot grow, but is also rendered useless for potion-making."

The professor glanced wistfully over her shoulder.

"Anyway, back to you two," she snapped at Terry and Mandy. "And you, Mr. Malfoy."

Mandy spoke. Quietly.

"Professor, please, Terry didn't trip me. It was—"

"_Yes, _he did," Malfoy snarled. "I saw him do it. I was right there."

"What's the trouble?" inquired a familiar, silky voice. Professor Snape's. "I have come for..." he trailed off, noticing the state of the greenhouse. "A stalk of _belladonna_. I see you have plenty, but none of it any use to me."

"There was a mishap with mooncalf dung," explained Professor Sprout wearily.

"Who did this?"

"It's their fault, Professor Snape, sir. I saw the whole thing," piped Malfoy, pointing again at Terry and Mandy.

"No! He's lying! It was an accident! Professor Snape, pl—"

Terry was silenced by Professor Snape's glare.

"I've heard enough," he hissed in his velvety, malevolent tone.

_Heard enough? How could he have already heard enough?_

"As Head of Slytherin House, I am qualified to interpret this situation and assign appropriate punishments." He paused, casting Professor Sprout an 'I'm-superior-to-you-and-therefore-will-be-taking-control' glance. "It seems to me that Mr. Malfoy, being a Prefect, is the more trustworthy party. Mr. Boot, Miss Brocklehurst; both of you will be serving a four-hour detention with _me_ this Saturday."

Terry noticed a wicked grin spread across Malfoy's face.

"_That's ridiculous!_" he stormed, astonished. "You don't even know what happened! This is unbeliev—"

"My decision is final," growled Professor Snape. "Four-hour detentions. Both of you for carelessness, and Mr. Boot for his _cheek._"

Gritting his teeth, Terry stomped across the lawn toward the castle. He beat through a crowd of Slytherins, finding Michael and Padma beyond them. Beside himself with rage, he said nothing to his friends. In a matter of minutes he had a near-death experience, been involved in the wreckage of a greenhouse and the destruction valuable plant, received a four-hour detention...

_Ugh. The injustice of it all._

He stared intently ahead, ignoring Michael and Padma's questions, too angry to look at them, too angry to speak. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair; he felt something wet, and cold.

Terry looked at his palm. His thoughts were bitter as he rubbed the moisture from his hand onto his sweater.

_Bloody snowflakes._

* * *

Well, do I pass GO? Collect $200? Or did it suck? **REVIEW** to let me know!

Also - Mooncalf dung, _belladonna, _and _dittanies _are all "real" magical... things. I made up the stuff about the reactions, but found the names of them at the Harry Potter Lexicon, which is extremely useful for all your HP needs. Check it out! )


	4. A Blessing In Disguise

I've decided to update this story, too, after a year and some of leaving it out in the cold.

Slowly, but surely, my fics will be completed.

There are a lot of things that are no longer canon in this story because I started it before HBP came out. For example Draco and Snape are still at Hogwarts.

But I just need to finish what I started.

Enjoy! And review!

-squibbles

* * *

**Chapter Four: A Blessing In Disguise**

Mandy had never been so excited to serve a detention.

Well, she'd also never served one in general, but that was beside the point.

Four hours, _alone_, with Terry Boot. What else could a girl (with a hopeless crush) ask for?

To get ready, Mandy skipped supper. Samantha was kind enough to stay behind as well. The pair went through possible outfits as if they were choosing which poor, orphaned puppy to take home from the pound.

"This one is _so_ cute…"

"Yes, but don't forget about this one…"

"Oh yeah… well, did you see these?"

This went on for about twenty minutes before Mandy decided on light blue jeans and a simple black shirt with three-quarter-length sleeves. Samantha bemoaned the outfit's conservativeness, but Mandy reasoned that she didn't have much of a figure to show off, anyway. Still, she managed to spice up her look with some sparkly lip gloss and colorful bangles, lifted from Padma's collection of make-up and accessories (which resembled a small department store).

It was five minutes to six. Mandy surveyed herself one last time in the dormitory's full length mirror. She smoothed her top. She pressed her lips together. She re-braided one of her plaits because a few strands were sticking out. At long last, she felt ready. Smiling appreciatively at her dorm-mates, Mandy bid them farewell and headed for Snape's dungeon.

Terry was already there when she arrived. Seated at a desk in the front row, he looked as though he wanted nothing more than to strangle the professor who stood before him. Snape smirked all the while, basking gleefully in his power-trip. Mandy sat down without a word.

"Now that we've taken our _sweet time _to get here, allow me to give you your punishment," drawled Snape with a glare in her direction. "Believe it or not, these desks used to be new and shiny."

Out of the corner of her eye, Mandy spotted Terry wrinkle his nose incredulously as he scratched some ashy matter from his desk's surface. The stuff got stuck under his fingernails.

"That is, before hundreds of lousy and careless potions students came through, yourselves included," the professor continued. "The task tonight is to clean them, _by hand_, until they look new again. Wands, please." He extended a sallow palm. Mandy nearly squealed when Terry's hand grazed hers as they both reached out to drop their wands in Snape's grasp at the same time. The boy didn't seem to notice, however—he just went right on scowling down at his desk.

Snape paced toward the door. "You will stay until the task is complete, even if it takes additional hours. Which I suspect it will, so I advise you to begin."

He disappeared out of the classroom in a billowing of black robes.

"That greasy git."

Mandy watched Terry as he approached the teacher's desk, where the cleaning supplies were laid out. She followed him.

"We didn't even do anything," she responded softly, pulling on a pair of rubber gloves. The bangles clinked against each other on her wrist.

Terry's pair of gloves was on, too. He snatched a rag and some cleaning solution, which was blue and contained in a spray-bottle, then started scrubbing a desk aggressively. "I know. It was that bleedin' Malfoy."

Mandy picked up the other set of cleaning supplies and began to work on the desk next to Terry's. "Yeah, Malfoy… he's, erm, bad news," she replied, feeling nervous and awkward. They couldn't very well bash Snape and Malfoy for the entire detention—what else could they talk about? Mandy wracked her brain for conversation topics.

"But I guess there's no use in staying angry," the boy shrugged, looking completely at ease. Mandy wished she could be _half_ as mellow and confident all the time. "It's not like there's anything we can do to get out of this."

"Uh… yeah."

Mandy kicked herself. _Sweet Merlin, say something interesting for once_, she scolded internally.

Lost in her thoughts, it took her a while to realize that she'd scrubbed the center of her desk clean. The cherry wood shone through with an unfamiliar brightness. Mandy smiled, running her hand over the smooth surface.

"I can't believe all these desks once looked like this," she commented.

Terry, who was almost finished with his desk, glanced over. "Yeah, I know. Maybe this place won't feel as much like a prison once we're done."

"You still take Potions?" Mandy inquired. Most of the seventh years in NEWT Potions were Slytherins. Even though it was difficult for Snape to deny most Ravenclaws the qualifying OWL to take the advanced course, few of Mandy's fellow Housemates willingly continued.

"Yeah. It's my dad's doing. He wants me to be a Healer."

"Oh." Mandy scrubbed through a layer of greenish goop. "I take it that's not what you want to be?"

Terry advanced to the next desk. "Not really. I hadn't decided as of fifth year, so my dad took the reins and decided for me."

"Fifth year? Nobody has it all figured out by fifth year!" The words blurted out on their own accord. Mandy felt her cheeks grow hot. "I mean, erm, I didn't really mean that. Uh, I just meant…"

Chuckling, Terry waved an easy-going hand. "Don't worry, I agree with you. If I find something I'm really passionate about, my career path will change, no matter what my dad has to say about it. But as of now I'm just going with the flow because I don't know what I want to do."

Mandy nodded. She admired his ability to be reasonable. Surely _he's_ never had a six-year crush on someone way out of his league. Then again… who is out of Terry Boot's league?

"What about you? Any plans for the future?" he asked.

"Well… I guess I'd like to go farther with Herbology. Although, since class last week, I don't know if that's such a good idea."

Terry laughed. Merlin, did she love his laugh. "I wouldn't worry about that. Professor Sprout tends to forgive and forget. I once knocked over an _entire_ shelf of potted Mandrakes. Actually, it wasn't completely my fault. Michael shoved me because I got some dirt on his tie, heaven forbid. Anyway, I fell into the shelf and some of the Mandrakes escaped from the soil, and they were shrieking like mad. Only about half of us in the greenhouse covered our ears in time… let's just say the Hospital Wing was busy that day."

Breaking into a wide grin, Mandy nodded excitedly. "I remember that! I covered my ears but still had a pretty bad headache," she reminisced.

"Me too. Well, my point is, Sprout won't hold a grudge. As I recall, she said we were 'excellent students,' even though she was angry. She will have cooled down by now."

For a few minutes the pair didn't speak, but Mandy didn't really mind. She was feeling more confident now that she had engaged in a normal conversation with the boy and figured that they would start talking again soon.

Hopefully.

Terry moved on to his third desk. "I think there's a hole in my glove," he mumbled, more to himself than anything. Mandy heard him, though, and discreetly watched him from the corner of her eye as he removed the glove.

She noticed something on his wrist—a purple bracelet of some sort. It looked liked woven hemp with a couple of black beads set into middle. Mandy wondered why she had never seen it before. Maybe it was new, or maybe he didn't wear it often.

"That's a nice bracelet," she ventured, smiling over at him. "Where did you get it? Hogsmeade?"

Terry stared down at his wrist for a moment's hesitation.

Then, all of a sudden, he shoved the rubber glove back on.

"No… it was my mom's."

"Erm… oh."

**Awkward silence of the century.**

Mandy thought she would die. Right there, right then, she would collapse on the desk and expire from embarrassment. She hadn't meant to put Terry on the spot like that. Who would have guessed that the mention of his bracelet would trouble him so? Positive that the rest of the evening would be plagued with an uncomfortable air, Mandy hung her head and concentrated on a particularly stubborn spot of something-or-other.

Part of her became more intrigued with Terry (if that was even possible). As sheepish as she felt, she yearned to question him further. What happened with his mother? Did this picture-perfect boy not actually have the fairy tale life that Mandy had always imagined?

Well, she obviously wasn't going to ask him about it. But that didn't change the fact that she desperately wanted to.

The quiet was broken by a strange sizzling noise… and Terry's laugh (i.e. music to Mandy's ears).

She peered across the room, where purple bubbles belched loudly from the surface of a desk.

"I think the cleaning solution is reacting with something here," Terry observed, a grin back on his face as if there had been no discomfort a few seconds ago.

Giggling, Mandy wiped the last smudge from the desk she was working on and walked over to Terry.

"Wow. That's wicked." She sniffed carefully. The steam smelled like a garden of summer flowers. "Weird, it smells good."

"Yeah, it does."

Mandy glanced up from the desk to find Terry looking at her. Upon meeting his gaze, she felt her heart begin to race.

His eyes were two different shades. His left one was a dark and mysterious brown, his right, a milky chocolate that shone with ambition. Mandy knew about this physical quirk of Terry's, but never before had she been close enough to see it, and never before had she faced him so directly. Most often she could only sneak glances from across crowded hallways.

They averted their eyes at the same time, both chuckling bashfully. Mandy didn't know what to think. Terry had just looked at her in a way she couldn't decipher. Was this a good thing?

"Right, so, we should finish up." He erased the dying bubbles with a few swipes of his arm, revealing the spot-free cherry wood. Mandy nodded in agreement and went to work on an adjacent desk.

The rest of the evening passed without any awkward disturbances or substantial eye contact, much to Mandy's relief and disappointment, respectively. She learned more about Terry during the detention than she knew from the past six years. And it seemed that as the evening went on, they became relaxed with each other. They joked and laughed and teased, and Mandy thought wistfully of all the good times she had missed being so reclusive.

Things would change. She was friends with _Terry Boot_ now.

They finished their task in just under four hours. Snape thundered in at 10pm to inspect the desks. He found a few black marks to complain about, but Terry crisply retaliated that the marks were burns that could not be removed without magic. This must have reminded Snape that he still had the two students' wands, for he whipped them out of his robe pocket.

"I hope you two learned not to be so _careless_," he snapped.

Mandy glimpsed at Terry as she took her wand from Snape's hand. She could tell that the boy had a retort on the tip of his tongue but didn't fancy another detention.

They left with haste. The corridor was a refreshing change from the confines of Snape's dungeon.

"Thank Merlin, I can actually _breathe_ out here. We probably have some brain damage from cleaning those desks for so long," Terry jested.

"Yeah, it was pretty brutal," Mandy agreed. "But… I enjoyed doing it with… with you, and all. I mean, it's worse to do something like that alone." She felt a surge of bravery run through her body. Just four hours ago she wouldn't have _dreamed_ of saying those words to Terry.

The boy threw her a sideways smile. Mandy swore she felt her heart skip a beat. "Definitely. It was great to talking to you. I mean, we're the same House, same year… it's nice that we got to know each other a little."

Mandy blushed profusely. It was all she could to contain her excitement. She just wanted to shout to the world that her life was beginning to look up—in the best way possible.

When they reached Ravenclaw Tower, the pair slowed to a stop.

"Well, it was lovely working with you, Miss Brocklehurst." Terry held out his hand in a mock-professional manner. Mandy shook it.

"Indeed, Sir Boot."

They entered the common room and parted ways to their separate dormitories.

Mandy all but swooned when she reached her bed.

Detention: a blessing in disguise.


	5. What Valentine?

Hey folks, here's chapter five. Look forward to scandal and drama and all that good stuff.

Enjoy!

-squibbles

* * *

**Chapter Five: What Valentine?**

It was the second week of February, thus the corridors were buzzing with excited and anxious voices. A very, very important holiday was approaching: Saint Valentine's Day.

Terry, Michael, and Lisa were strolling to Transfiguration on Thursday, as usual. They always had a strong presence when they ambled through the hallways together. The trio radiated confidence, and through the years of having crossed paths with their peers thousands of times, they had grown used to being glanced at admiringly.

"Have you two _heartthrobs_ found someone special to spend Valentine's Day with?" Lisa inquired, lightly shoving Terry, who in turn bumped into Michael.

"Of course. Michael Corner always has a date when the occasion calls for one," the Quidditch Captain professed.

"Right. And Michael Corner should stop referring to himself in the third person if he knows what's good for him," Lisa jested with a roll of her eyes.

"Sod off. I don't suppose _you_ have a Valentine this year?"

"For your _information_, Michael, I do have plans with a special someone. He just doesn't know it yet," she replied curtly, tossing her blonde hair.

"Fat lot of good that's going to do you, if the bloke doesn't even _know_ he has a date."

Terry burst out laughing. "You two are like an old married couple," he jeered, patting each of his friends on the back.

"Oh yeah? Who are you spending Valentine's with, then?" asked Michael. Lisa leaned forward slightly wearing an expression of unconcealed interest. Terry was about to answer ('I have no date but I'm perfectly secure with that') when he spotted Mandy walking the opposite direction. A smile suddenly on his face, he waved to her, and she waved back.

He realized his friends were gawking at her as if she had a unicorn horn sprouting from her forehead. This must have made her uncomfortable, for she looked away and quickened her step.

"What's the matter with you lot?" Terry demanded when Mandy was out of earshot.

"What's the matter with _us?_ What's the matter with _you_, mate? Getting all google-eyed at some random bird like that. Who is she, anyway?" Michael interrogated.

Terry couldn't believe what his best friend was saying. He probably didn't realize how stuck-up he sounded. "First of all, I don't know what the sodding hell it means to be google-eyed. But I wasn't." Fists clenched, Terry glared at Michael. "Secondly, she isn't _some random bird_. Her name is Mandy Brocklehurst, and she's been in Ravenclaw for the past six years, just like you and me. Would it kill you to be a little more observant?"

"Relax, mate. I was just asking you who she is because I didn't know."

"She's in my dormitory," Lisa enlightened the boys. "We sort of used to be friends but then she became, like, really shy."

"Maybe you should get to know her again," replied Terry. "She's pretty quiet, I guess, but she's cool when you get into a conversation with her."

A moment's silence fell between the three companions… that is, until Michael just had to be tactless again.

"So does this mean you'll be asking her for a snog or two this Saturday?"

Exasperated, Terry gave the other boy a swift check in the side with his shoulder bag.

"Great Mother of Merlin! What's in that, Bludgers?" Michael hopped around in exaggerated agony, clutching his ribs. He fell to his knees. "This is the end of the line, lads. Just go on without me!"

Lisa was in hysterics. Terry couldn't help but crack a smile. He'd always found it strange, the way Michael was able to drive him crazy one minute than redeem himself the next.

"Let's just get to class, you lunatics."

* * *

After Transfiguration, Terry dawdled for a while, hoping to walk back to the common room alone. He was a little on edge, as Michael had been especially hyper during class and had gotten them scolded more than once. So much for redeeming himself.

"Go ahead, I have to talk to McGonagall for a minute," Terry fibbed, gathering up his parchment scrolls.

"We'll wait for you," promised Lisa with a smile.

"Nonsense, Lise," Michael butt in. "I'm so hungry I could eat a hippogriff, straight up. Come on, let's get to the Great Hall." He tugged the sleeve of her robe.

"_Fine_. See you later, then."

Terry could have sworn that Lisa winked at him right before she turned around to leave. Probably his imagination. He waited for another minute or so until the noise from the corridor died down. McGonagall didn't seem to mind; she was sitting on her desk, cleaning behind her ears with her delicate, black paw. She mewed and swished her tail as if to say, '_See you next class, Mr. Boot, and don't forget about that essay_.' With a wave, Terry picked up his bag and slipped out the door.

Strangely, he had been thinking about Mandy since the detention. Something about her drew him in. Maybe it was her voice, which was soft but full of energy. Maybe it was her ocean-blue eyes that he found himself staring into at one point during the four hours. Maybe it was the way he could have a conversation with her as if they'd known each other for years.

Of course, Terry didn't _like_ her. Not as more than a friend. That would be ridiculous, because he had only just started speaking with her.

Hands in his robe pockets, Terry wandered up to Ravenclaw Tower. The walk had gone quite peacefully. Sometimes he just craved time alone to think about his day. About life, about people… about Mandy.

Mandy: a new friend. _Not_ Mandy: a girl he fancied. Because he didn't. Right?

Terry snapped out of his trance when someone emerged from the common room. He stepped inside the open door and realized he was alone—most of the student body was down at the Great Hall for lunch. The curly-haired boy jogged up to his dormitory, intending to drop off his books and then catch up with Michael and Lisa.

However, when he dropped his bag on his four-poster, Terry noticed something on the pillow. It was red parchment cut into a heart shape. He felt himself blush, even though nobody was around, as he read the short poem.

_It's the time of year_

_When we put our hearts on the line._

_If you give me yours,_

_Then I'll give you mine._

_Sir Boot, will you be my Valentine?_

The note was unsigned. Terry felt a smile spread across his face. Sure, girls tended to like him and he'd dated a few. But a secret admirer? This was definitely new.

He tucked the valentine safely into his robe pocket, planning to keep it from Michael's prying eyes. Terry didn't quite fancy having the poem copied a hundred times and posted throughout the corridors. Well, Michael probably wouldn't do _that_, but he did have a reputation for advocating romantic gossip. To put it in perspective, he was sometimes referred to as 'the Ravenclaw male equivalent of Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown.'

Terry wasn't going to let his best mate indiscreetly discover the secret admirer's identity. He would found out for himself on Valentine's Day.

* * *

Saturday rolled around, and the students of Hogwarts found themselves in a sea of _pink _when they finally wandered downstairs for a late breakfast. Pink tablecloths, pink window drapes, pink balloons, pink napkins and plates and cutlery—it was as if Madam Paddifoot's café had somehow entered the castle and exploded in the Great Hall. Terry considered it all a bit overwhelming, but the girls seemed to think otherwise.

"Ooh, look at these, Terry! They're so cute!" Lisa crooned, pointing to the heart-shaped candles that floated their heads.

"They're pretty stupid," snorted Michael in between bites of toast with jam.

"I wasn't _talking_ to you. Surely Terry appreciates them."

"Erm, yeah. They're great," replied the boy being addressed, as he flicked away a candle that was drifting a little too close to his hair.

"Hey, Terry."

He turned. It was Mandy. She wore a blue cardigan with dark jeans, both of which were a great contrast to the surroundings. Terry welcomed the distinction, as all the pink was becoming an eyesore after only five minutes.

"Hey Mandy, how're you?"

"I'm all right, and yourself?"

"Brilliant. What's up?"

Mandy dropped her gaze to the floor. "I hear the house elves are decorating all the common rooms this evening, and there will be food and stuff too. Will… will you be hanging out in the common room tonight?"

Terry could feel Lisa's and Michael's eyes on the back of his head.

"Absolutely. We could play Exploding Snap or something."

"Yeah! Yeah, definitely," agreed Mandy, smiling ear to ear. "I have a Charms lesson to make up with Flitwick after dinner, but I should be back around eight-thirty."

"Perfect. I'll see you then."

"All right. Bye, Terry." She started to turn, then glanced over her shoulder. "See you, Lisa, Michael," she added, waving as she walked.

Terry swiveled back around on the bench. He noticed that Michael's loud toast-chewing had ceased and knew the other boy was going to say something.

"You like her."

Eyebrows raised, Terry glimpsed skeptically at his friend, who had excess jam on his upper lip.

"What are you talking about?"

"Mandy. You're _smitten_, mate. It's the way you smile at her. I noticed it the other day in the hallway and I noticed it again just now."

"I don't."

"Yes you do!"

"If he says he doesn't, that means he doesn't!" Lisa interjected rather shrilly.

"I really don't. Can we just drop it?" requested Terry, poking his eggs with his fork.

"Fine, fine. You two just _love_ ganging up on me."

With that, Michael shoved an entire croissant in his mouth, much to Lisa's disgust.

The afternoon was spent having fun outdoors. Students made snowmen and snow angels and engaged in snowball fights, then ran inside for hot chocolate in the Great Hall, only to head back to the grounds and do it all over. Terry felt like a kid again as he, Michael, and some other blokes from the dormitory played "Terrorize The Females," who were doing their best to look cute in their colorful winter coats. Soon enough, however, the girls were apple-cheeked and wind-blown as they got tackled, ambush style. (Tackled gently, that is.) They forged a counter-attack with snowballs. By and large, it was a wonderful day.

After showers and supper, Terry, Michael and Lisa returned to their common room. Indeed, as Mandy had promised, the walls and furniture were tastefully decorated. It looked far better than the Great Hall (which, Terry had decided, resembled Umbridge's infamous sweater). Tables with desserts and drinks were set up near the entrance. House elves skirted around the edges of the room, unnoticed, making finishing touches.

"This is great," Terry noted, absent-mindedly grabbing a drink. He looked at the slim bottle—it was Muggle soda pop. He took a swig. "Hmm. Bubbly."

"Well, I should go fetch my date," Michael announced.

"Who is she? You never told us," observed Lisa as Michael was turning to leave.

"Lavender Brown." With a smug smile, he sauntered out the common room door.

"Oh, what wonderful match they are. Gossip _central_," Lisa joked. She glanced up at Terry, batting her eyelashes. He couldn't imagine why—maybe there was some dust in her eye or something. "Shall we sit?"

"Sure."

Lisa took Terry's arm and led him over to the couch closest to the fire. He sat slightly sideways, resting his back against the armrest and facing the common room entrance. Lisa crossed one leg over the other. Her knee touched Terry's, but she didn't move, so he figured she just didn't realize. He was about to say mention it when Lisa took a deep breath and began to speak.

"Listen, Terry."

"Listening."

"We've been friends for a long time, right?"

"Right."

_What's this all about?_

"Well… I want you to know that I think you're a great bloke," Lisa complimented, shifting closer to him.

"Erm, thanks. You… you're great too."

"What I mean to say is… is…" She paused. "Well, I guess I don't know how to say it. So maybe I'll show you."

All of a sudden, she leaned forward, closing the short distance between them, and planted her lips squarely on Terry's. Taken aback, the boy didn't know how to proceed. He let her kiss him. What else could he do?

It lasted perhaps five seconds before Lisa pulled away, a sultry expression on her face. Terry stared at her, breathless, and tried to think of something to say.

"Uh… so it was you who sent me that valentine?" came the dumb response.

Lisa tilted her head to one side, smiling curiously.

"What valentine?"


End file.
